On the second day of our week’s end, we carefully crafted a day with a special event as its centerpiece. An area mall was to have snow, and we planned to travel twenty miles to see it.
In the grand tradition of Saint Walt (the patron saint of tourism based economies) we Floridians manufacture what Mother Nature does not provide. As is often the case in December, the elements have denied us our Halmark given right to a winter wonderland. So, like many other places in the south, the mall was going to make some for us.
Only they didn’t.
Imagine my surprise when I walked down the path at the outdoor festival shopping plaza, saw the white flurries swirling in the air not thirty feet in front of me, saw the crowd enthusiastically taking advantage of this rarest of Florida events, then noticed upon close inspection that these white flurries were the product of air blown across soapy water.
There we were, on a cool Florida evening, standing with a hundred or so of our fellow Floridians, subjecting ourselves to flurries of foam.
I felt so used, but the disappointment quickly faded. The sight was so preposterous that I doubled over in uncontrollable laughter. I looked around and noticed my father and my wife. They were laughing too.
So there we were, surrounded by a hundred or so of our fellow Floridians, doubled over in uncontrollable laughter. It was like we were the only ones that got the joke, and the joke was on all of us.
Hey, if you can’t laugh at yourself,